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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793301">Of Bruised Knees and Climbed Trees</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff/pseuds/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff'>Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Putting Down Roots - Western AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, Female Reader, Western AU, once again this is the same thing which is female reader who is the school teacher, part of my, sheriff din djarin, soft papa din, this is paternal din because we all love that he is a dilf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:40:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff/pseuds/Writings_of_a_Hufflepuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He has always been gentle with the little one’s but it is nothing compared to the sureness with which he climbs the tall tree and gentleness with which he reassures one of your students that they can in fact make the climb down and they’ll be okay.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Putting Down Roots - Western AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Bruised Knees and Climbed Trees</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this series is more a collection of fics in the same AU/Universe/World. So there's not necessarily a continuous set plot or story line, but the world is the same, the characters are the same. Hope that makes sense.</p>
<p>Feel free to come talk to me about this series or any of my writings over on my writing tumblr @ writings-of-a-hufflepuff.tumblr.com! Always happy to hear from you guys, get feedback, get ideas etc!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lunch times at the schoolhouse were never quiet affairs. After eight years as a school teacher you had learnt that if something was going to happen, it was inevitably going to happen at lunch time when the children were out of the classroom doors and in the fresh air. Touch wood, you think touching the wall of the schoolhouse, you had yet to have anything too dramatic happen this school year. There had been no fights between the older boys and girls which had in previous years had a tendency to happen as frustrations and teenage angst boiled over. There had been no major injuries, no children had gone missing at lunch time, and no one had attempted to tattoo another child like Davey McDonald that one year. He had definitely been the source of most of your schoolhouse drama. With him having completed his school last year, perhaps, you thought, this year might prove to be uneventful. </p>
<p>This year had been rather tame and as you stood on the wooden porch of the schoolhouse watching your children make the most of their hour to run, get fresh air, and eat their lunches, you couldn’t help but smile. You watched Grogu, Mary-Beth and Timmy playing at the small pond, more of a puddle really, that rested near the school. Mary-Beth was showing both boys how to skip stones and Grogu seemed impressed every single time she managed to get a perfect skip. Timmy fumbled at his attempt, stone landing in the water with a sploosh! </p>
<p>Your eyes drifted to the older kids, eating their lunch and giggling together in groups. The boys had separated off from the girls, no doubt more and more aware of their differences as courting became a new interest in their eyes. Soon you’d have the usual problems of teenage love on your hands, sweet, but always requiring your eyes to be peeled. While the boys would face no repercussions for a dalliance, the girls would, and you always made sure to keep a chaperone's watchful eye on them each year. Much to their annoyance. </p>
<p>You spotted Jerome sitting on his own, sketchbook and pencil in hand and carefully walked your way over, picking through the rocks and fallen leaves as the weather began to turn colder. He was wrapped up full, only a little bit of his face visible beneath a large scarf and fluffy hat.</p>
<p>“Do you mind if I sit with you, Jerome?” </p>
<p>“Not at all, Miss.” He quickly goes back to his drawing and despite the desire to peek you resist the urge and wait for him to offer to show you, if that were to happen at all. You pride yourself on creating relationships born from trust with your pupils and part of that was letting them come to you rather than demanding they share things. Jerome had become more willing to share his art bit by bit, preening under your admiration and praise and you hoped that it would be enough to encourage him to pursue his dream of art school. You had a few old acquaintances you hoped would be willing to offer him patronage if they saw his work, but that was a few years off and for now, you were just content to provide him with kind words and support.</p>
<p>He doesn’t ask if you’d like to have a look, just shuffles the book over into your lap with a shy look away, not wanting to see your reaction. They’re beautiful little drawings of the world around him. The daisies in the grass, the leaves on the ground, the nearly bare trees. A few sketches of the other children playing. Each has careful line strokes, hashing to shade and a style to them that gives them an almost classical look. Smooth, soft. </p>
<p>“These are beautiful, Jerome! You really have a gift!” You praise him, carefully handing the book back for him to return to his sketching. The two of you fall into companionable silence as he draws and you watch the children around you. </p>
<p>It is when you go to ring the bell to draw them back into class with a ‘Lunch is over, boys and girls! Time to get back to work!’, that you notice a crowd gathering quite a distance away from the school underneath some trees. With a quick request that Jerome keep an eye on the younger children, you stride your way over, hands lifting your skirt from the dirt. </p>
<p>“What’s going on? David, why are you all…” You trail off as you look up to see the exact reason they’re all crowding beneath the tall oak tree. </p>
<p>Lilly-Anne is shaking at the very top, arms wrapped tightly around the branch she’d managed to make it to. The girl is barely ten, and has always been one of your more adventurous and confident children, but in that moment she is clearly petrified and you very much consider climbing the tree yourself to get her. </p>
<p>“Lilly-Anne, dear, are you stuck?” You can’t think of a possible reason but that fact, that she is stuck in some way whether mental or physical. </p>
<p>“I-I-I I can’t get down! I-” She cuts herself off in panic, clinging even tighter to the branch as a brisk wind causes the smaller branches to shake. </p>
<p>“I’m coming to get you! Don’t worry, sweetheart! It’s going to be okay!” You say, sounding much more confident than you actually are about your ability to climb a thirty foot tall oak tree in a dress and heeled boots. You haven’t climbed a tree since you were thirteen years old and have never been a particularly fan of heights, but needs must. </p>
<p>You’re planting a foot on a knot in the tree and reaching up for a lower branch when spurs clink behind you and a familiar deep drawl sounds out from behind you. </p>
<p>“Everything alright, Miss Y/N?” You’re in truth rather relieved when you turn to see Din standing there, thumbs tucked into his belt behind the buckle. The worn hat he never seems to be without is tilted back as he looks over you, your gaggle of children and up into the tree. The bemused expression turns to one of concern when he sees Lilly-Anne at the top, immediately pulling his hat and holsters off and placing them on the ground. </p>
<p>Before you can even reply to his question he has gentle hands on your waist twisting you away from the tree before placing a boot in the same spot your foot was moments ago. It doesn’t irritate you that he has done all this without asking, instead you are relieved. You know you are not dressed for tree climbing nor are you proficient at it, Din is better suited for the task and you are glad that he is here. </p>
<p>“Lilly-Anne, Ad’ika, it’s the sheriff! I’m coming to get you, little one, don’t you worry about a thing!”  He keeps his voice even, soothing, the same voice he uses whenever Grogu has a nightmare. She might be feet up in the air but even from down at the base of the tree he can see how scared she is, can hear her whimpering and crying out for someone to come help her. Like any scared little kid.</p>
<p>He’s not really thinking much of anything, in truth, not when he sees the little girl terrified and crying at the top of the tall tree. There’s a memory from his past, a small boy at the top of a large tree, his adopted father climbing to get him with gentle words. He remembers the fear of being at the top, of being so confident in your ability to get all the way up that you never considered just how you’d make your way back down. </p>
<p>He’s not scared of heights, not anymore. His adoptive father had made sure of that. Taught him to climb right back down, how to face that fear that makes you freeze. It’s not a hard climb, and each foothold is easy to find. The tree is sturdy, thick branches and a wide trunk. Old, older than him, older than any of them and he wonders how many children have climbed it only to need a guardian or parent to come and rescue them from the top. </p>
<p>“It’s alright, little one! I’m on my way, you just hang tight, okay?”</p>
<p>“O-o-okay…” He likes Lilly-Anne, she likes his adventure stories the most. The little wild card a born adventurer herself, she always talks about becoming a famous gunslinger, constantly badgering him to teach her how to shoot. Adventurous spirit, stubborn, but he’s never seen her scared of anything. It breaks Din’s heart to see her usual confidence and fearlessness missing. </p>
<p>You’re worried. That’s the best way to describe what you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach and it’s nail biting, stomach churning worry. A part of you knows that Din is competent in a million different ways, that he’ll be fine climbing a tree that a ten year old managed to scale and that he’ll be fine bringing her back down. Another part of you worries that maybe he’ll slip or she’ll slip or both of them will slip. The thought of either of them getting hurt sends you into a pacing sort of panic at the bottom of the tree, eyes on them the whole time, watching Din scale as your feet move you back and forth, to and fro. </p>
<p>He’s at the top before you can even blink, bracing himself besides her and talking to her low enough that you can’t hear. She’s shaking and you’re not sure if it is the wind or the fear that does it to her. He’s steady as a rock, it doesn’t surprise you, Din has, from the moment he walked into town, been steady, stable, and competent. He brings an ease to everything he does and seems to trust in his own skills beyond a shadow of a doubt.</p>
<p>“Hey, Ad’ika, I’m right here, okay? Look at me…” He knows this is the hard part, how to convince her to come down even with his help. She is so scared and he can now finally see the tear tracks over her chubby cheeks and the redness of her eyes. This little girl is so terribly scared and it makes his heart ache for her. But, he promises himself, that he’ll be the stable presence she needs, that he’ll be calm and collected for her even with a thirty foot drop beneath them and you pacing the ground below in worry. </p>
<p>Lilly-Anne’s bottom lip is trembling and her knuckles are white from holding on so tight, but she looks at him and seems to calm a little at his presence beside her. “I need you to hold onto me okay, sweetheart? I’m going to come closer and I need you to hold onto me so I can help you down, okay?” He knows it’s a big ask, knowing she’d have to pull herself away from the safety of the branch and trust that he’d keep her safe and secure, but she nods her head at him with a little whimper and he knows she’s brave enough to do this. </p>
<p>“You’re doing so well, Ad’ika.” Din praises her as he sidles as close as he can, helping her, with one arm, wrap her own around his neck and rest her legs around his hips. She’s a little big to be carried normally, getting to that age where her legs are getting a little too long and her body doesn’t fit as easily as Grogu’s would against his hip, but she’s light and easy to wrap around him as he secures his own feet and hands getting ready to make the climb down. </p>
<p>“You got all the way up here, Lilly-Anne, you can get back down, okay? Look,” Din begins the climb down, at each handhold and foot placement he points out to her that she could grab here or step there. He wants her to understand that if she could get all the way up, she could have made her way down. While he’s more than happy to help her, he knows her. She is an adventurous child, likely to climb a tree again and likely to need to make her way back down. Just like his buir had done, he was determined to make sure she was never scared of getting back down again. “You just need to place your hands where they fit best, move them down with you, a step at a time, Ad’ika. A step at a time.”</p>
<p>“It’s...it’s scary though…”</p>
<p>“I’ll let you in on a lil’ secret…” He turns his head to give her a meaningful look with a soft smile, stopping where he is just for a moment, “it’s not being scared that matters, it’s being brave enough to do it anyway.” </p>
<p>People think him fearless. The fearless sheriff, cleaning up the town, keeping people safe, facing down men with guns and hunting down criminals. He’s not. He’s scared of a lot of things, mostly Grogu, you or the other little ones getting hurt. Losing you from his life. Losing his son. Being a disappointment to his son. That scares him more than any threat to his own body, but still in the face of that fear he is brave. Bravery has never been the absence of fear, it’s doing what you need to do anyway, knowing that it terrifies you. His buir had taught him that and he’d teach Lilly-Anne that, teach Grogu that. </p>
<p>As he continues down the tree he can see her process his words. Brain working hard behind big blue eyes before she tugs on the back of his shirt to stop him where he is. Once again he stops climbing. You’re still pacing below, every time they stop you grow more anxious wondering what on earth could be happening. Did Din lose his footing? Was he faltering in some way? Was Lilly-Anne panicking? </p>
<p>But, that isn’t the case. When he asks her what’s wrong, she simply tells him she wants to try and climb down on her own, with his help. He can feel pride blooming in his chest, like a new bud opening up to the world in spring, and so he carefully helps her off of his hip and adjusts her footing and handholds before he moves below her so he can help her ease her way down and catch her if she slips. </p>
<p>She takes those first steps backwards, tentatively, scared of where she should put her feet, but each step after becomes more confident until they’re climbing at a decent pace back down the tree. She is a natural climber.</p>
<p>“You’re doing so well, Lil’ika! I knew you could do it, darlin’.” Din’s voice is quiet but now half way down you can actually hear him speaking to her, little praises at every successful step, reminders of how brave she is, how good she is doing. It eases some of that panic within you, warms your chest at the sounds of him, so utterly paternal and kind. </p>
<p>She is smiling wider as she gets nearer to the bottom, you can see that the fear has left her, the panic gone, replaced with a bravery that you are thankful to see. She has always been a brave child, an adventurous child, fearless. The thought that she would lose that had terrified you almost as much as the thought that she was stuck at the top of that tree. </p>
<p>The moment her feet touch the ground again you are fussing over her like a mother hen, “Lilly-Anne, what possessed you to climb such a tall tree?!” You both do not want to stifle her adventurous spirit and at the same time feel a sense of responsibility to teach her to think before taking potentially dangerous actions. It is the one cruelty of being a teacher and not a friend, you must always tell them off for doing something which could have ended with them hurt because no one else would. “You could have been hurt, sweetheart.” You soften the blow with the endearment, checking her over for cuts and bruises. Her hands are a little rough, but otherwise she is fine and despite your fussing and admonishment she is still smiling. </p>
<p>“I got back down, Miss Y/N! I got back down!” You sigh out from your place kneeling in front of her, a small smile making its way to your face. Before you tug lightly at one of the blonde braids of her hair. You want to be stern, but can’t find it in yourself to be when she had in fact managed to get all the way back down, when she was so clearly proud of herself. How could you bring yourself to crush that happiness? </p>
<p>“Yes, yes, you did, well done, sweet girl...now that you’ve nearly given me a heart attack, why don’t you thank the sheriff and go get sorted for your next lesson?” You can still feel the residual adrenaline running through you, your heart is still beating faster than it should. To think you were going to climb up that tree to get her, in a full dress and heeled boots...you suspected the outcome would have been the two of you stuck up that tree, not just one. What a sight that would have made. </p>
<p>“Thank you, Sheriff Djarin!” He’s buckling his holster on as she turns to him, already getting back into sheriff mode as he places that worn hat over dark brown curls. He cuts an impressive figure as sheriff, but you most enjoy him at his softest, when he lets the walls fall for the children and shows you who he really is underneath all that responsibility and posturing. </p>
<p>“You’re welcome, Ad’ika, you remember how to get down for next time?” </p>
<p>“Uh huh!” Like all children she nods her head so vigorously you briefly worry she’ll concuss herself, but know that they always seem to be fine afterwards.</p>
<p>“Good. Go get ready for your lesson.” He pats the top of her head with a soft smile. You only ever see that smile around you and the children, including Grogu, of course. The two of you watch her run off, the other children in the group following her at your insistence that they better be ready at the desks by the time you return. </p>
<p>You know you need to move soon, they are waiting for their next set of lessons before the day ends and you have things to teach them. Things you always stress are important. But, you can’t ever resist spending a little more time with Din, even more so when it comes to thanking him for his hand in helping you with the children. He is always there when you need him, when his support or involvement is required. </p>
<p>“Thank you, Din...I...I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t turned up. I’m sure we both would have been stuck up there if I’d tried to get her…” There’s something about being alone with Din that excites you more than it should. Perhaps, it’s the reminder that you’re an unmarried woman, he’s an unmarried man, and the two of you certainly shouldn’t be spending time alone together away from other people’s eyes. There is no one here to watch you, to ensure everything is polite and appropriate. It shouldn’t mean more than it does. It should just be a moment to thank him, something simple, devoid of any deep feelings, but like everything that happens with Din, there is always more going on beneath the surface. Your feelings are always deep and hard to understand with him. </p>
<p><br/>“Cabur’ika. You never have to thank me. For anything.” He’s almost bashful looking when he smiles at you from under the brim of his hat, face tilted down just so. You can see the hint of a flush to his tanned cheeks and the dimples pull at the sides of his mouth when he smiles. <br/><br/></p>
<p>“Yes...yes I do. I hope you...I hope you understand just how much I appreciate your help, Din. You...you do more for me than anyone else in this town and,” You gently reach for one of his large hands, holding it between the two of your own. His fingers are calloused and rough, his skin warm to the touch even in the autumn air. “I really do appreciate it. I appreciate you. So thank you.” </p>
<p>He’s at a loss for words. Not just because of your own sweet ones, but because your eyes are so soft and large, staring up at him like he’s hung the moon, like he’s done something above and beyond. When in truth he has just done his job, the right thing. Supporting you as the school teacher will always be the right thing and certainly it isn’t all duty. He finds you to be beautiful, sweet and soft, kind, yet strong and fierce. Your treatment of his son, his Grogu warms his heart. Your deep love for your children makes him want to sigh like a lovesick school boy and your treatment of him, your acceptance, open arms to a man who should scare you, makes him want to be around you all the more. From the moment he met you, you had been welcoming and soft. That hadn’t changed and everything in him screams at him to do something, say something, hold your hand tighter, kiss your lips, but that’s too fast and too soon. It would be a dishonour to you, you deserved him taking his time, finding the right words and actions to court you, to prove that he was worthy of your time and affection. </p>
<p>So instead he just smiles at you, squeezes your hands tightly, once, twice, before thanking you. There are few parting words, a slow goodbye in which you both are reluctant to pull away from each other, but a call from the schoolhouse porch draws you away from him with a sad little smile. </p>
<p>His chest hurts so badly that he rubs at it with a palm. The hurt is a good sort though. Not the blistering pain of a gunshot wound or slash from a knife, but the ache of...of love. That’s what it is, he has to admit it to himself, it’s love. New and small, growing larger each day, but love.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Mando’a Translations:</p>
<p>Ad’ika - Little one</p>
<p>Lil’ika - Basically little Lily. The ‘ika is a diminutive suffix and often you take the first 3 words of a child's name like Gro’ika to make a familiar name. </p>
<p>Cabur’ika - Lit. Little Guardian, but Din’s term of endearment for reader after ‘Never Mess With a School Teacher’ because she is a true guardian of her kids. </p>
<p>Buir - Mother/Father/Parent</p></blockquote></div></div>
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